This Dungeon Grew Mushrooms

The image flashed past in an instant, giving Lin Jun no chance to study it further.

Coffins, a towering mountain, a pitch-black sky.

The meaning was unclear.

Lin Jun carefully examined the newly completed mushroom puppet.

The parasitization process was flawless. The mycelium was tightly fused with the remaining nerves and muscles, control feedback was smooth, and there were no abnormalities whatsoever.

That vision… was it because this panel-less monster itself had some connection to the mist?

Then he’d just have to catch more and test it again.

Perfect timing—these modified puppets could also be added to the ranks as supplementary combat power.

When Lin Jun sent the mushroom puppet to Little Pig’s temporary command camp, it triggered an unexpected reaction.

Quite a few of the soldiers participating in this operation had once been captives taken in from those two defeated tribes.

By enlisting and accumulating large amounts of contribution points, they had bought back their freedom.

And they were anything but unfamiliar with mushroom puppets.

Many of them had personally witnessed how those unruly compatriots—who continued to resist even after being captured—were replaced bit by bit by growing mushrooms right before their eyes, eventually becoming the same kind of walking corpse now standing before them.

Those with stronger willpower clenched their weapons, knuckles whitening, forcing their faces to remain expressionless.

Those with shakier nerves were already trembling slightly, some even unconsciously taking half a step back.

Even Little Pig felt a chill crawl up her spine when she saw the puppet with glowing mushrooms blooming from its eye sockets, memories of her former self surfacing unbidden.

But she quickly suppressed the discomfort, her expression flawless once more.

Unlike the others, however, after that brief chill, Little Pig immediately grew excited.

Mushroom puppets were great!

She had a feeling that sooner or later, the Northern Frontier would clash head-on with the Empire.

When that time came, she intended to capture those high-ranking bloodkin who had once lorded over her, those colleagues who had tripped her up at every turn… drag them onto the fungal carpet and turn them into puppets while they were still alive, letting them experience the despair she once had!

The fishmen, on the other hand, reacted very differently.

Seeing the former invader emerge from the hidden passage, many fishman warriors immediately raised their tridents, emitting threatening gurgles, their eyes filled with a mix of anger, confusion, and vigilance.

The disturbance spread until the old fishman Gugulu let out a series of steady gurgles to calm them, and only then did the situation gradually settle.

One reconnaissance squad after another returned, bringing back all kinds of intelligence Little Pig urgently needed—terrain details, enemy distribution, potential traps, and passage conditions.

Of course, some squads paid a price for it.

Some lost puji, others suffered casualties.

Fortunately, there were no cases of an entire squad being wiped out.

Even the squad that had fared the worst—whose fishman guide was killed, preventing them from escaping via hidden passages—managed, through the desperate rearguard actions of several puji, to cover three members breaking through the encirclement and retreating safely.

Little Pig compiled all the information brought back by the squads, and before long, finalized the attack route and marching plan.

Under the premise of securing a retreat, seize the dungeon entrance with thunderous force!

And after glancing at the mushroom puppet that the boss had just placed under her control, she adjusted her battle strategy as well.

Along the way, while ensuring zero casualties on their side, capture as many of these monsters alive as possible.

They weren’t as useful as puji, but they could still reduce friendly losses—no reason not to use them.

Amid Ming’s excited cheers, this mixed force of Puji Fort soldiers, various puji, fishmen, and newly added puppets—the “Tidal Sanctum Expeditionary Army”—officially set off along the route marked on the map.

On the other side, Lin Jun completed the parasitization and reattachment of the severed arm for the fishman.

This wasn’t because he had suddenly started caring about fishman health, but rather a test of the old fishman’s attitude.

Yet Gugulu did not stop his kin from accepting parasitization.

In fact, from the moment Lin Jun arrived, everything he did—including spreading underwater fungal carpets inside the Tidal Sanctum—was met by the old fishman with tacit approval, even cooperation, without the slightest sign of resistance.

Strange.

Was there really a race willing to accept his mycelium so completely?

Even in human and elven societies that had already formed semi-bound symbiotic relationships with mycelium, voices opposing parasitization and advocating individual “purity” had never disappeared.

In fact, as the scale of mycelial symbiosis continued to expand, perhaps sensing what the future might look like, while the number of “symbiosis advocates” increased, more and more people also shifted toward the “purity faction,” causing opposition to grow louder by the day.

Of course, for now, these disputes were still in the early stages of verbal debate.

And even among the assimilated tribes, there were still a very small number of diehards who refused to accept mycelium.

They would not integrate into the fungal network, naturally lacked 【Cold Resistance】, could not earn contribution points, and enjoyed none of the conveniences.

Lin Jun had no time to persecute these stubborn types. It was time-consuming, labor-intensive, and bad for his image.

Although Lin Jun never took any coercive measures against them, the environment of Puji Fort itself left these “purity faction” members with very little living space.

They either eventually bowed to reality and discovered how good it was, or quietly vanished into some unknown corner, becoming nourishment for the mycelium after death all the same.

Looking back, when had it ever been easy to get a group to accept mycelium?

Every single time, it was only after Lin Jun had guided things openly or covertly, paying unseen costs, that acceptance was finally achieved.

For fishmen to adopt such a take-whatever-you-want attitude… it honestly made Lin Jun uneasy instead, forcing him to proceed cautiously, step by step.

…

Meanwhile, above the entrance to the Tidal Sanctum, on the turbulent sea surface.

A medium-sized sailing ship bobbed with the waves, anchored in place. At the very limit of its visible range, an endless gray-white wall of mist stood in the distance, swallowing the line where sea met sky.

The boundary where the mist had retreated was fixed right there.

The seawater around the ship was murky, intermingled with pale blue and crimson—traces left behind by a vicious battle that had just ended.

The snakefolk mercenaries had finally cleared out the last wave of monsters that had attacked from the waters near the mist’s edge.

“Hold him down! Don’t pull the bone spikes out yet—it’ll tear the wound open!”

“Quick! Bring two more bottles of intermediate healing potion! His injuries are pretty serious!”

The deck was in chaos as the snakefolk treated their wounded comrades.

Inside the cabin, however, the atmosphere had dropped to freezing.

The leader of the snakefolk mercenary group, a burly snakefolk known as Ironjaw, threw a severed monster limb onto the cabin floor.

His vertical pupils narrowed to slits as he coldly stared at the foxman employer.

“These cursed things crawling out of the mist—before we set out, you never mentioned we’d be getting close enough to see the mist wall clearly!”

The foxman Gero’s pointed ears twitched slightly, his face showing innocence and helplessness.

“How could I possibly know in advance exactly how far the mist would retreat?” he said. “Boss Ironjaw, look—there’s still a buffer zone of sea. As long as our luck isn’t too terrible, there shouldn’t be a problem…”

He paused, then added in a more negotiating tone.

“Of course, if you and your brothers feel the risk is too great and decide to abandon the commission now, I completely understand. The deposit need not be returned. However… if you’re willing to accept this additional risk, then in addition to paying the remaining half of the commission immediately upon landing, I’m willing to add another fifty percent as compensation. And… I’ll be sure to speak highly of the Ironjaw Mercenary Group’s courage and professionalism in front of some of my friends.”

At the mention of “an additional fifty percent,” the muscles on Ironjaw’s fine-scaled face twitched, hesitation flashing through him.

When Gero brought up helping publicize the mercenary group, he was finally tempted.

He was a snakefolk who had been assimilated into the Empire through war, and this mercenary group had only just been established. They urgently needed reputation and credibility.

This fox… as far as he knew, truly did have connections with several powerful imperial nobles.

“Deal!” Ironjaw gritted his teeth, pulled a blank parchment scroll from his waist pouch, and swiftly signed a supplementary contract with Gero.

Before the ink had even dried, he turned and slid out of the cabin, using his hoarse voice to urge his subordinates to begin final preparations before entering the water.

After Ironjaw left, Tanaka—who had been watching with his arms crossed—leaned toward Gero and lowered his voice.

“Hey, fox. You were already going to have to scrape together the remaining half of the payment somehow, and now there’s another fifty percent on top of that. So… which lord are you planning to swindle into filling this hole?”

Gero shot him a glance but didn’t answer directly. Instead, he reined in his earlier slick expression, his gaze turning serious.

“Be careful this time. Follow my instructions exactly. Otherwise, we might really leave our lives down there.”

“That dangerous?” Tanaka asked in alarm. “That’s not right—doesn’t your Temperance let you simulate and predict things? How could there be an accident?”

“Temperance isn’t omnipotent,” the foxman shook his head, clearly unwilling to explain the details.

Tanaka let out a mournful sigh. This kind of “exciting” life was really not what he wanted.